Day 2: Shannon to Sneem

 

 Picture this—a very narrow (but presumable two-lane) highway with a steep drop off to the Kenmare Bay on one side and a stone wall on the other—no shoulders at all. Now picture two very large coach tour busses meeting on a hill. Both busses stop while drivers calculate the physics of the matter, then one bus inches(actually “centimeters”) ahead, all passengers at the windows holding their breath as mirrors slowly scrape each other…a little more…easy…almost.    Cheers and applause erupt from the Smith clan as the last centimeter is cleared.

But I get ahead of myself for that was near the end of today’s journey

From Shannon airport, we drove a short way to picturesque Adare for breakfast al fresco and a walk among thatched roofs and brightly painted storefronts.

There was a wee band of musicians playing under an arbor, and the Beck’s got into the spirit, as described in this limerick written near Limerick.

Twas in Adare that Jeannie and Bob

Were surrounded by a tourist mob.

They were a hit quite big

As they danced a jig

Pretty enough to make an Irishman sob.

Back in the bus we left the flat fields and meadows of the Irish midlands and climbed into the mountains of the Ring of Kerry. Our first stop was the scenic overlook of Killarney (postcard perfect) and then it was down, down through Killarney and into the National Park and the Muckross House built in 1839 and in 1850 lavishly expanded to impress Queen Victoria. Reportedly she was much impressed but the expense bankrupt the builders who sold at a loss to some Americans who eventually donated the house and surrounding acres to the Irish nation.

It was in this park that many of us loaded into jaunting cars (pony carts) for a ride along a tumbling mountain brook to a tiered and cascading waterfall . That ride may have been the day’s highlight for Trudy, Mike, Rosemary and me, as we had the grandest driver in one Robert Tagine who regaled us from start to finish with tales in his deep Irish brogue. He had driven a jaunting car at Muckross “for farty five years, and me father before me.” He talked fondly of Susie, whose rump he patted with encouragement as she pulled us up the path-- and of his earlier loves Molly Malone, and Nancy O’Brien, now both in pony heaven. We got the gist of his tales in spite of the accent and his missing teeth where he’d been kicked by a horse “thartin year ago cume November.” And even when the meaning was lost, we were enthralled with the music of his telling. Although not half so learned as our guide and shanachie (story teller) Batt Burns, Robert was most delightful to listen to--as true a shanachie as you’ll find in all of Ireland.

Then ‘twas off to Sneem on the very narrow, curvy mountain roads referred to above.  We arrived in time for a shower or a quick nap—we had been up since Thursday morning and this was Friday evening. Then we enjoyed our first pint of Guinness or Smithwick, and a fine dinner at the hotel before we went upstairs to sleep the sleep of the dead. End of day 2

IRISH BLESSING:

May you have the hindsight to know where you've been

the foresight to know where you're going

and the insight to know when you're going too far.